


fit as a fiddle (ready for love)

by cthlulu



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Los Angeles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Singing, Tap Dance, Tap Dancer!Grantaire, i literally dont know how to tag this, it may be the 50s BUT THERES NO HOMOPHOBIA OR RACISM CUZ THAT DOES NOT SPARK JOY, its the 50s mgm musical au absolutely no one asked for, movie-musical, oh yeah baby thats right, tag wranglers im sorry, thats right, yes i wrote this because of a donald oconnor research project i had to do why do you ask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthlulu/pseuds/cthlulu
Summary: "there is nothing like sharing your joy with those you love, R."~~~basically it's an early 50s au where Grantaire is a vaudeville tapper who gets sucked into the world of MGM film making. enjolras is a well-known movie-musical actor alongside his sister cosette. i think you get where im going with this
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	fit as a fiddle (ready for love)

**Author's Note:**

> first things first: i have never written a multi-chapter fic before. i don’t know how to do this and i don’t how long it will take so there ya go  
> i'm a tap dancer and i use a lot of tap terminology in this fic. if there are words that don't seem to make sense in context, it's probably a tap step because tappers are weird and have weird names for shit (wtf is a shiggity-bop???)  
> anyways no beta we die like men. hope you enjoy

Los Angeles was too bright, in Grantaire’s opinion. The sweltering California sun made everything the same washed-out, chalky shade of white. The din of the busy crowds had faded into background noise after just a few weeks in the city, but he still wasn’t used to the stucco-walled office buildings and shiny windshields waiting for him around every corner.

It was the summer of 1949, and Henri Grantaire was officially unemployed. The year before, he had packed his bags, said goodbye to whatever family he had left in McMinnville, Oregon and moved to Hollywood.

Hollywood, as it turned out, fucking sucked.

He had decided why, after a few months. There was entirely too much of it. Too many people, too many buildings, too many cars, too many fake smiles, too many bright lights. But, it’s not like he was about to move back to Oregon. There was nothing left for him there, just old sketchbooks and an empty ice cream parlor. Rural Oregon wasn’t all bad, but he wanted to do something more with his life than become another new-world glassblowing shop that would eventually close within its first year of business.

There had to be something more for him.

There had to be.

~~~

The man across from Grantaire grinned. His thin, white tank top was drenched with sweat and the setting sun was barely obscured by the facade of the theater behind him. His thick brown hair was matted to his forehead. His feet were flying.

_ heel-shuffle, toe-shuffle, heel-shuffle, toe-shuffle _

His eyes glinted in the late afternoon light and Grantaire laughed as one of his oldest friends winked at him from across the pavement. Never a dull moment when dancing with Bahorel.

_ tap-and-a-wing, tap-and-a-wing, step, step, tap-and-a-wing, tap-and-a-wing, step step _

_ drawback and drawback and drawback and drawback and-- _

_ chug, separated pullback. click! _

Grantaire laughed again.  _ Two cents. _

A light crowd had gathered around them, clapping with awe as Bahorel finished his set. Tap battles were not uncommon in the City of Angels, but the general public apparently knew so little about tap dancing that even the most basic steps were bound to impress them.

Grantaire rolled his shoulders. His turn.

It was common courtesy in tap battles to take your opponents steps and rework them, use them to your advantage. That was the entire point; Take their rhythms, switch them around, spice them up and (hopefully) come out with a better combination than the previous one. That way, you both get to experiment with what pleases the crowds.

And you get to have a little fun in the process.

_ draaaaag, bullet! drawback and drawback and-- tap-and-a-wing, tap-and-a-wing. _

The crowd fell silent, watching Grantaire’s feet intently. Bahorel was laughing softly from across the pavement, beaming out of respect for his friend's talent and love of his craft. As he loved to say,  _ there is nothing like sharing your joy with those you love, R. _

_ shuffle-toe-heel-heel-toe-toe-stomp! _

_ heel-shuffle, toe-shuffle, heel-shuffle, toe-shuffle-- _

_ machine guns. _

Grantaire’s taps were old but sturdy, the expensive kind of shoe that lasted longer than you needed and in better shape than you thought. They were well worn and well loved. Dark green, hand-painted vines spiraled across the tarnished black leather, petite yellow flowers dotting the entirety of the design. Grantaire’s (albeit drunken) handiwork.

_ shave and-a haircut; two cents! _

The crowd applauded once more, delighted by the show. The mustachioed man from across the way raised his hands in defeat, grinning proudly at his friend’s triumph as the crowd began to dissipate.

“I’ll admit,” Bahorel said, “You have bested me yet again, my dear R. It’s always such a pleasure to dance with you.” He tucked the wooden tap board under his arm, crossed the cooling pavement and swept his friend into an affectionate, bear-like hug.

Grantaire laughed, a throaty, plentiful sound that filled the now-vacant alley. “We haven’t danced together in years, Baz. Jesus, I’ve missed you.” Grantaire bent and picked up the wooden tap board before standing and motioning for the other to follow him down the street. 

“Me?” Bahorel looked at Grantaire incredulously. “You’re the one that’s been stuck in McMinnville all these years. I have to admit to you, R, I wasn’t sure you’d ever make it out of that town.” Grantaire glared at his chuckling companion. It wasn’t like he had ever  _ planned _ on staying in McMinnville. And it wasn’t like LA was any better. “But now you’re here! And I have so much to show you. Come on!” Bahorel tugged Grantaire down the darkening street, stars and street lights alike flickering awake as the dusk settled in.

“The City of Angels awaits!”

**Author's Note:**

> that concludes the first chapter!! will there be a second one? hopefully!! maybe i can get adhd brain to work during quarantine if i'm lucky enough. comments are my lifeblood! hmu on tumblr @cold-egg


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